The Time it Takes To Heal
by Vampirechica12345
Summary: It's been four years since the deaths of Scott, Jean, and Xavier and still Storm and Logan are affected. Will they ever be able to just let go of the past and start fresh? Or will their tragic pasts eventually lead up to their downfall?
1. Rain

**I do not own X-Men**

**This fanfic is set after the third movie X-Men: The Last Stand. Constructive criticism would be good, as this is my first Storm/Logan fanfic and I want to make sure I get it right. **

Four years after the deaths of Scott, Jean, and Xavier, the school is still up and running.

Storm, as the headmistress, sees it as her duty to personally take care of all problems concerning the school, which has left her extremely busy. But even with all the distractions laid before her, she still seems to find time to ponder over the deaths. Could she have done anything to prevent them? If she had just stayed with Xavier when he went to visit Jean that fateful day, would she have been able to stop his death? These are constant haunts that refuse to leave her mind.

After Jean's death, Logan did everything he could to forget her. He could not stand to hear her name spoken out loud, or even a happy memory recounted. The fact that he had killed her, that he had ended her life, nearly drove him mad. Dwelling on it almost drove him over the edge, so he shut the thoughts out. But now, four years later, as the anniversary of her death arrives again, the guilt sprouts anew, forming worries for him once more.

Ororo glanced out the window, watching as kids ran about outside, laughing and chattering away happily.

The sun beat down, spreading rays of light and warmth to all. Nearly everyone was in a good mood.

Except for her.

Though the kids may not realize it, may not be old enough to remember the events that occurred four years before on this day, Ororo did.

She could still picture clearly the service that was held, the speech she was forced to give, though she had nearly fallen apart in tears.

All the tears, the barely suppressed sobs, it had almost been too much for her to handle.

It was true, that everyone handled the sadness in their own way.

Most had confided in each other, taking about past regrets and memories with their friends, in attempts to deal with the pain.

But not her.

No, she had instead retreated to the shelters of her own mind, not wanting to burden anyone with her grief, instead, locking it all up inside her very being and attempting to put it out of her mind, for the sake of the children.

But now, four years later, on the anniversary of that service, she could practically feel the grief rising inside her, trying to claw it's way out into the open.

Ororo tried again to focus on the smiles of the students, playing outside in the sunshine.

She willed herself to share their energy, their love of life.

But it was no use.

A shadow suddenly covered everything, and she saw the children look up in confusion.

A lone gray rain cloud had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, threatening to drive the children back into the school building for shelter.

Ororo frowned. She couldn't let her emotions take control like that.

She willed the cloud to go away, and slowly, it obeyed her commands, drifting off to the side, before slowly fading away into faint smoky wisps of gray.

Heaving a sigh, she frowned. _I have to get a hold on this. _she thought sternly. _I don't want to cause anymore problems than necessary. _

A stack of yellow folders and papers covered in pen scribbles piled on her desk caught her eye. _I may as well get some work done._

She reached out and grabbed the stack, sorting them into piles, then taking hold of a red pen and beginning to correct.

_Right. _

_Wrong._

_Right, right, right, wrong._

_Wrong, wrong, wrong...that doesn't even make sense!_

Her thoughts became blurred as she concentrated on this task.

The day slowly started to fade away, the sky growing darker.

But Ororo remained, correcting paper furiously, as if it was the last thing keeping her sane in this world.

A shining silver wrench rested on the edge of the work table, inching farther and farther over the edge with each shake.

Logan messed with the engine on the bike, brow furrowed in frustration.

"Why did I have to choose this bike?" he muttered, twisting a screw a bit tighter than normal. "So many choices and I pick this piece of junk. Figures."

He thought as he worked, an annoying habit, seeing as he had come here in the first place hoping to get away from his thoughts.

But things just weren't that simple anymore.

No, he had to keep thinking, keep remembering all the details. Keep stressing over the 'what if's'.

Like that could ever change anything.

An image flashed into his mind. A red haired beauty, her eyes twinkling, a smile spread across her lips. The wind blowing through her hair as she turned to look at him...

Suddenly, the screw gave a loud pop, ricocheting out of the engine and through the garage, hitting cars and walls, pieces and parts.

"Aw shit!" Logan roared, throwing the screwdriver to the ground angrily.

The tremor from the screwdriver's impact with the ground was just enough to cause the wrench to completely lose it's balance, toppling over the edge of the work table and plummeting towards the ground.

Logan plucked it out of thin air, moving it towards the engine.

He aimed at a bolt, starting to loosen it, fingers working furiously.

At the same time, his mind worked, trying to shut out any further thoughts.

Especially thoughts about _her_.

He shuddered, giving the bolt a hard turn.

It had been four years and still the guilt was there, hanging over his head like an anvil, filling his every thought.

He had killed her. He had ended her life.

It wasn't so much the fact that he loved her, though that was still there too.

He still felt the loss, but it had begun to fade with time, lessening to a more bearable amount.

But it was the guilt and the the guilt alone that ate at his very being, like a predator to prey.

He had killed her.

She was dead because of him.

As he worked, trying again to block out his thoughts and, again, failing miserably, he wondered yet again what he had done in his life.

It would never stop bothering him, the fact that there was so much of his life that he didn't even know about. That he may have loved another, may have had friends.

May have killed others.

That was what bothered him the deepest.

She may not have been the only one he had killed.

A surge of inner turmoil surged through him, and he dropped the wrench.

"Shit!" he cried again, reaching with a shaking hand for the metal tool.

He tried to grab it, but it had slid under a giant toolbox.

He bent down, pushing his arm farther, but the thing was resting in the corner, between the wall and the box.

Logan let out a growl, rushing to his feet. "That's it." he growled, stomping out of the garage and into the yard, heading in the direction of the school building. "I'm done."

He flung the door open, grateful for the late hour.

At least the kids were in bed and didn't have to see him like this.

Not that they didn't see him like this enough to stay away at all costs.

He stepped into the kitchen and immediately high-tailed it to the fridge.

Flinging the door open, he scoured it's contents for his constant refuge.

"Where the hell is that beer?" he muttered.

Then he remembered.

Beer had been confiscated a while ago. School rules.

Logan growled, slamming the fridge door shut.

He hightailed it to a drawer, pulling it open noisily and rummaging through it's contents.

Finally, his fingers met their mark. He plucked a new cigar from the drawer, pushing it closed with a loud bang.

He pulled a lighter out of his back pocket, lighting the cigar, then stuffing it back into the depths of his pocket.

He lifted it to his lips and inhaled deeply. Once, twice.

Once satisfied, he leaned against the counter, cigar in one hand, staring blankly at the wall.

"What time is it anyway?" he muttered.

He glanced down at his hand, then remembered. "No watch." He sighed. "Great."

Taking another inhale of cigar, he headed to the door. "What does it matter what time it is anyway? It's late and I'm tired, I'm going to bed."

He started down the hall, leaving dark rooms in his wake.

He frowned when he noticed a sliver of light up ahead.

The principal's office.

"What's Storm doing up?" he muttered, stepping to the door and peering in.

The room was kind of dim, the only light coming from a small lamp in one corner.

At first glance, no one seemed to be there.

But after taking another look, he noticed the woman sitting with her back facing him, staring out the window at the rain just starting to drop out of the sky.

Even without looking at her face, he could tell she was crying.

Her usually straight composure was slumped, caved in as if she was creating a shell around herself, a shield from the rest of the world.

Her long white hair, usually held up in a neat ponytail, was falling out of the rubber band's hold, random strands draping themselves across her face.

What he noticed most of all was the way her shoulders shook.

The movement was slight, so small that most people wouldn't notice.

But he did.

He stood there, unsure whether he should go in or just keep walking, retreating down the hall to the shelter of his room.

But the door made the decision for him.

It creaked a bit as he shifted his position.

Storm froze at the sound, then slowly, turned to see who her arrival was.

She tried to wipe the tears away before he would notice, but it was too late.

Logan glanced at her sheepishly, and came to a decision.

He stepped into the room warily, eyes on her.

"Logan." Storm said, clearing her throat quickly. She lifted a hand to tighten her ponytail, in attempts to hide her discomfort. She glanced at him hesitantly, like a child watching to see if they had been caught trying to sneak a cookie out of the jar.

"Hey." he said, voice cutting through the uncomfortable silence like a knife.

Storm shifted in her seat. "Is there...is there anything you needed?" she asked quietly.

Logan noticed the way she blinked a few times, trying to clear away new tears before they spilled over.

"Uh..." he struggled to find some excuse for his being there. But when no ideas came to him, all he had left to say was:

"No, not really."

Storm frowned in confusion, then nodded. "Alright then." She glanced down, pretending to study some papers on her desk. "Well...good night, Logan."

"Night." he rumbled, turning and heading out the door.

He started to close it, but allowed himself one last glance inside.

Storm was still staring at the papers, gripping them in her hands as if her life depended on it. After a moment, she let them drop. They hit the desk with a muffled thud.

Storm lowered her head into her hands.

Some may have thought she was resting, but Logan knew better.

Her shoulders shook with barely suppressed sobs, little sounds escaping through her fingers.

Usually, someone seeing another reacting like this would walk inside, do their best to cheer the person up.

But Logan couldn't bring himself to go back in.

He wasn't the...social type.

Sure, he felt the pain too, but he wasn't one to comfort.

Probably because there had never been anyone to comfort him when he felt like that.

So Logan, well, he did what he did best.

Disappeared.

**If you could review, that would be great. I have some ideas I'm tossing around for more chapters, but if you have any ideas on what I should do in the future, please feel free to let me know. I'm all ears. **


	2. Now We're Getting Somewhere

Weeks had passed and still no one had noticed the occurrences of Storm's nightlife.

No one, that is, but Logan.

Ever since the night he'd seen Storm cry things had changed for Logan.

His schedule had changed, so to speak.

The days were the same. Teaching the occasional class, working on some cars, taking his motorcycle out for a ride, then disappearing for a couple hours.

The usual.

But his nights had changed.

He found himself wandering by the office each night, checking up on Storm.

On the outside looking in.

He never went in there, though he sometimes felt that urge in the pit of his stomach, telling him to do just that.

Instead, he would just observe, watch as she grieved over all the horrors that had happened in her lifetime.

How anyone could harbor so much grief was beyond him.

But then again, look at him. It was a wonder he had made it through this far without losing his sanity.

And all this time he'd thought he was the only one who felt this way. The only one who still held on tightly to the past, so tightly that, even four years later, it still affected his life.

Maybe he wasn't so alone. Maybe it wasn't just him against the world, like he'd originally thought.

And maybe, just maybe, Storm was feeling as he was. Torn between the past and present, unsure of which path to take, whether to let go at the risk of forgetting or hold onto it and never get over the pain.

It was a hard decision, that was for sure, and so far neither of them had been able to choose.

Thus, Logan stood, leaning against the wall as he quietly looked in on her grieving.

He'd begun to think of her as having two different sides.

There was Day Storm, and then there was Night Storm.

Day Storm was calm, cool, and collected, the way he had always known her to be. Her hair was always neat and tidy, her shirts on which not a single wrinkle or stain could be found.

She taught her history classes, watched over the students, did chores.

Everything was as it should be during the day.

But at night, that's when Night Storm showed up.

Storm was the complete opposite of her collected self at night.

Every time Logan wandered down the hall after dark, he would find her in her office, crying.

At these times, she could care less what she looked like.

Her shoulders were always slumped, her eyes streaked with tears, that defeated look that he'd come to recognize all too well written clearly across her face.

Every night it rained, big wet drops falling down to the ground.

Like the sky itself was crying with her.

Logan didn't understand how the students hadn't noticed that every night since the funeral had been filled with rain.

But then again, would he have noticed if he had never peeked into her office that first night?

Why he was suddenly so interested in Storm's life was a mystery.

Now his nights revolved around her. Watching her in her silent moments of pain.

It was possible that it was because it distracted him from the pain of his own life, although he'd never admit to that.

Or maybe he just didn't feel right leaving her to cry alone, even though he never went in.

**X X X X X**

Logan walked down the hall late that night, on his way to the office, as usual.

It was like an addiction, unable to break it.

A continuos cycle.

But as he walked in the direction of her office, he realized something was off, different.

He paused, tipping his head to the side and listening.

There it was again.

Sobbing.

Logan had become accustomed to it. But there was something wrong with these sobs, something different than all the other nights.

These sobs were louder, even more relentless than the usual.

The pain expressed through these cries hit Logan like a punch in the gut.

That was it, he couldn't just stand back and watch her cry. Not anymore.

He had to do something about this.

No one should ever have to go through so much pain.

He reached the door in seconds, turning the knob and pulling it open without a moment's hesitation.

The door squeaked slightly as it opened, cutting the most recent sob short.

Logan pushed his way inside the room, his gaze flicking immediately to the desk.

What he saw nearly made his heart break.

Storm was sitting in her chair, knees pulled up against her chest. She clutched them tightly, shoulders shaking.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she stared up at him with eyes wide in surprise. She sniffed, hand darting out to grab a tissue, and quickly blew her nose, tossing it in the trashcan.

Logan stood there, watching her, filled with a sudden urge to help her. He tried to think of something to say, something comforting, but nothing came to mind.

So he just stared at her, hoping she'd start this off.

But for once, she didn't, still watching him with those big blue eyes of hers staring into his face. She grabbed another tissue and dabbed at her eyes, trying and failing to get rid of the evidence.

They sat there for a moment in awkward silence, until finally Storm summoned up the ability to speak.

"What do you need, Logan?" she asked quietly, voice breaking a bit at the end.

Her voice sounded just as frail as she looked, the confident tone disappearing completely from her mouth.

Logan lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck. "Listen..." he started. "I'm not usually the 'talk it out' type, but I know for a fact that crying doesn't help." He glanced up at her, waiting for her reaction.

Nothing. She didn't even move.

Logan coughed. "If you wanna talk, I could try..."

A flicker of emotion flashed through Storm's eyes. "No." she said flatly, turning to stare out the window.

He winced. "Look, I know this isn't something either of us is used to, but I really think this could help..."

She whirled around before he could finish, and he was shocked to see her eyes had gone white.

"Why are you so eager for information?" she snapped. "I don't see you opening up about your feelings for Jean."

Once upon a time, it would have made Logan angry just to hear that name.

But now, the name barely made him flinch. He realized that he hadn't thought of her in weeks, he had been so intent on worrying about Storm.

He stared back into Storm's ferocious glare, knowing that this was the pain talking, not her.

She felt violated, exposed now that someone knew about her grief.

It was only natural she'd react to his approach this way.

"Well?" Storm demanded, eyes flickering.

Logan shifted his position. "What can I say, I'm not exactly an open book."

She snorted. "Try restricted."

He gave her a hard glance. "Hey, at least I'm trying." He put his hands down on the desk, leaning forward so their eyes were level. "I don't see anyone else coming in here trying to help you. Every night you're always here, alone, miserable, and no one comes to help you. That's not right."

As he talked, he could see the fight slowly dimming in her eyes, replaced with such exhaustion it was a wonder she was able to hold herself on her feet.

She looked at him sadly, blinking back tears in efforts to keep some degree of her composure intact. "What can you do?" she murmured. She dropped her head, squeezing her eyes shut. "There's nothing any of us can do. They're dead."

She shuddered, and Logan's head whirled. She looked so fragile, he thought she would shatter with a single touch.

She bit her lip, then looked up at him, blue eyes pools of despair. "And I can't help but wonder if I could have stopped it, could have saved them...any of them." She stopped, unable to continue.

"It's not your fault." Logan said, surprised at how determined he was to get those thoughts out of her head.

Storm didn't pay him any attention.

"Ororo." he said softly.

She glanced up at him, surprised. "What did you just call me?" she murmured.

Logan frowned. "Well that's your name, isn't it?" he asked, confused at her reaction.

She didn't answer him, just staring at him with expressionless eyes.

Logan fiddled with the stapler sitting on the desk. "Well I don't need to call you that if you don't want..."

"No!" she said quickly, and he glanced up at her, shocked by her sudden burst of feeling.

She cleared her throat, then tried again. "I mean...I don't mind of you call me that...it's just been a while since anyone has called me that..." She wiped a lone tear off of her cheek. "The Professor was the only one who called me that." she murmured in a quieter voice.

Then she shook off the pain and glanced at him again. "I guess it just feels good to hear someone call me by my real name again."

Logan smiled. "Finally." he rumbled. "We're getting somewhere." He paused, then added. "Ororo it is."

Was it his imagination, or did a flicker of a smile appear on her lips the moment he said her real name?

He took a breath, running a hand through his hair, then glancing at her. "So, now that that's settled...do you want to talk?"

Ororo raised an eyebrow, this time an actual smile appearing on her lips. "I will share my secrets when you share yours, Logan." she murmured.

Logan opened his mouth to protest, then closed it when he saw the look on her face.

"Alright." he sighed. He got up to leave, then turned back to look at her, pointing a finger. "But if I hear crying one more time, I'm coming in and we're talking."

Ororo smiled. "Whatever you say."

Logan nodded once, gruffly, then walked to the door. He pulled it open, taking a step out, then glancing over his shoulder. "Night, 'Ro." he called.

Ororo glanced up at him, eyebrows raised at this new nickname, then her face relaxed. "Goodnight, Logan." she said softly.

He stepped out of the room, closing the door gently behind him, then heading for his room.

He dropped onto the bed as soon as he walked in, laying on his back and pondering over the somewhat conversation that had just passed between them.

He was still trying to piece it all together when he drifted off into a deep sleep.


	3. Coffee

Ororo sighed, settling back into her chair.

The tears had left her, the urge to cry gone. Instead, she was left with an odd feeling in her chest.

Relief?

Possible. In truth, it felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, if only a small one.

Her second nightly encounter with Logan had left thoughts whirring through her brain, forcing the grief from her mind for the moment.

She and Logan had never been on a personal level, never been the kind of friends that were there for each other in times of need.

Heck, she hadn't even been certain he considered her to be a friend, until now.

Teammates they may be, but that was pretty much it. Sure, they'd shared a word here and there, but even perfect strangers could do that.

Besides, Logan wasn't really the social type. To be completely honest, he was the exact opposite. Always shying away from anything having to do with emotions or personal things. Retreating to his room, or to the garage.

And she'd grown to accept that.

That was just how he was.

So it was only natural that this encounter would surprise her.

She had to admit, it did feel good to have someone look out for her.

She'd missed that in the four years since the deaths. After Xavier, Scott, and Jean were gone, Ororo was left alone. Just her against the world. No one to watch her back in a fight or to comfort her when she was feeling down.

Nope. Instead it had been just her and this cold, desolate office.

She spun her chair around, facing the window once more.

The sky had cleared, the cloud covering fading away to reveal a brilliantly bright moon. It's light spread throughout the sky, outshining the stars, proving it's worth.

The moonlight filtered through the window, resting on her face.

Ororo felt herself drawn to it's beckoning call, pictured herself giving in to the light's embrace, becoming one with it

She stared out the window, eyes reflecting the natural beauty before her.

She was stunned by it's magnificence, it's sense of purpose in the world.

If only she had that, maybe she wouldn't be left feeling so empty.

A cloud drifted by on a breeze, settling in front of the moon, plunging the world into shadow once more.

Ororo blinked out of her daze and glanced down at her desk. Stacks of uncorrected papers were tossed her and there, notebook paper lined with the hasty scrawls of students.

She slumped. It was the middle of the night and there was still so much work to do.

Her eyes narrowed as she continued to stare at the papers, feeling a loathing towards her work that she'd never experienced until this night.

Logan's appearance had sparked a sort of restlessness in her, a need to do something worthwhile.

She was sick of grading papers, sick of acting like nothing was wrong. The urge to get away from it all overwhelmed her, filling her with want.

She rose abruptly, sending her chair spinning. Taking hold of the papers, she walked over to a filing cabinet, opening an empty drawer and dumping them carelessly in it. She closed it with a bang, satisfied by the sound.

No papers would be graded tonight. She'd post a notice bright and early tomorrow morning, announcing that classes would be closed for the day. It was a Friday, after all. And the kids wouldn't question a day off.

She tore a piece of paper from a notebook, jotting down the message with a flourish. For some reason, this gesture made her feel more in control. Signing her name, she allowed herself a content smile.

"There, now that's settled."

Ororo started to the door, note in her hand. She paused halfway there, hesitating, before leaning down and removing her heels.

It was the middle of the night after all, what did it matter if she walked down the hall barefoot for once? All the students were in bed anyway.

With that, she pulled the door open, stepping out into the hallway.

One hand closed the door, while the other reached for a tack on the bulletin board hanging from the wall beside her office. She stuck the note to the board, then turned and started down the hallway.

Her stride was graceful and effortless, nothing like the stiff, proper way she moved while in front of her peers.

There was no doubt that her proper way of doing things would return with the sun, but for now she would just enjoy this little bit of freedom.

It was the most she'd had in a long while.

Ororo climbed the stairs to her room, avoiding the elevator at all costs, just like every other day. She took the steps two at a time, energy unlike any other coursing through her as she rose.

Soon, she found herself opening the door to her room.

She walked in, determined to do something worthwhile.

But then, she saw it.

The picture rested in a delicate silver frame, standing on her bureau. Two girls were hugging, facing the camera with bright eyes and wide smiles. Beside them, a man sat in a wheelchair, watching them with an amused expression on his face.

Ororo's energetic mood faded into nothing, her eyes glued to the picture.

She moved in a dreamlike state, not quite sure how she came to stand before the picture, to take it into her shaking hands.

Their eyes seemed to bore into hers, staring right back at her, reminding her of a time when all was right in the world. When she was nearly carefree.

With a surprising amount of effort, she lowered the picture, placing it face down on the bureau.

She drifted over to the bed, eyes expressionless.

Her delicate frame collapsed onto the soft sheets, disappearing into it's folds. She breathed in the clean scent of lilacs, trying to keep her mind blank.

But it was no use.

She was right back where she had started.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to shut the world out. Her hands reached for a pillow, clutching it tightly to her chest.

A whimper escaped her lips, muffled by sheets.

Her mind flooded with memories, her eyes dripping with tears for the second time that night.

Eventually she drifted off, memories melding into a dream-like state, where she was haunted even in slumber...

**X X X X X**

Ororo trudged into the kitchen early the next morning, dressed in gray sweats and a plain white shirt.

She peered around the room, bleary eyed. What time was it?

Glancing at the clock, she groaned.

8:00.

So much for an early breakfast.

Well, that may have been early for the rest of the staff, but for her, it was late.

Very late.

Ororo let out a yawn as she headed to the stove.

_Why am I so tired? _

She reached for the tea kettle, then paused. Somehow she got the feeling tea wouldn't help her now.

Her eyes roamed to a lone coffee pot sitting on the counter to her right.

Should she...?

She hesitated, then reached out and flicked it on. Immediately it started whirring, starting the machine.

Ororo frowned at it, puzzled. She'd never made coffee before, this was all new to her.

A large circular box sat beside the machine, label reading COFFEE.

Taking it in one hand, she opened the lid.

It looked like dark little ground up beans. She bent her head down and sniffed them, then winced.

Bitter.

She studied the box curiously. "It says coffee...but what do I do with it?"

"You put them in the machine." a gruff voice said, as an arm reached around her, gently taking the box from her hands.

Turning, she saw that the voice belonged to Logan. She watched as he took a spoon out of a drawer, scooping some grounds out and putting them into the top of the coffee maker.

He snapped it closed, then tossed the spoon in the sink.

Ororo's eyes remained on the coffee maker, watching as the dark brown liquid brewed.

Logan chuckled, and out of the corner of her eye she saw him looking at her, a twinkle of amusement gleaming in his eyes.

"I'm guessing you've never made coffee before?" he said.

Ororo shook her head. "No."

He leaned back, pressing his palms against the counter and surveying her with his eyes. "Since when do you drink coffee? I thought all you drank was that herbal junk."

She narrowed her eyes at his use of words. "Herbal _tea_."

Logan rolled his eyes. "Does it look like I care?"

Ororo sighed, lifting a hand to rub her temples. "This morning is not turning out as I'd hoped."

"What were you hoping for?" Logan asked.

The storm goddess looked up at him, blue eyes misting over. "For it to be different than every other morning." She seemed to slump, looking defeated.

Logan frowned, opening his mouth to ask about this, when the coffee maker gave a ding.

"Coffee's done." he said, reaching out and taking the pot from the maker. "Just grab a cup and you're good to go."

Ororo turned to face the cabinets. The teacher's cups were in one of the highest ones, to keep kids from using them.

Lifting up on her tip toes, she opened the door, stretching to reach her grayish purple mug.

_Who's idea was it to put cups this high up? _

Logan stood behind her, watching her struggle and wondering if he should intervene.

_Nah, she'll probably get all huffy. _He decided.

From his spot behind her, Logan saw a flash of her tan skin as the bottom of her white shirt bunched together.

Finally Ororo managed to wrap her hand around the cup, lifting it in the air triumphantly as she turned around to face him.

Logan quickly lifted his gaze, blinking once.

As he stood there, Ororo took the pot from his hand, pouring the bitter liquid into her cup.

"Did you want any?" she asked, turning towards the cabinet again. "I could grab you a cup."

She turned towards the cabinet again, reaching out.

He started to stare at her back again, then shook himself furiously. "Uh...that's fine." he said quickly, moving in beside her and grabbing his mug himself. "I got it."

She scrunched her brow curiously, then shrugged. "Alright then. Here you go." She handed him the pot, then walked over to the table, taking a seat, mug in hand.

Logan frowned as he poured himself a cup. _What was that about?_ He questioned himself.

Unable to come up with an answer, he too headed over to the table.

"So, you like it?" he asked Ororo as he sat down across from her, gesturing at her cup.

She glanced down at the mug skeptically. She lifted it slowly to her mouth, taking a hesitant sip.

Her nose wrinkled and she sputtered. "Augh!"

Logan chuckled at her expression. "Maybe you should add more sugar."

Ororo stared at him blankly. "Sugar?"

Logan nodded. "Yea." He paused as a thought came to mind. He stared at her. "Darlin'...you did put in cream and sugar...didn't you?"

"I was supposed to put something in it?" she replied, frowning down at her cup, then looking up at him. "But...you did not put anything in your cup." she said slowly.

He grinned. "That's cuz I like it black." He reached over and took a couple sugar packets, tossing them at her. "Put a few of these in there, that should do it."

Ororo delicately picked up a packet, holding it between two fingers. She ripped it open, pouring a little in the coffee, then glancing up at Logan.

Logan chuckled. "Go ahead." He smiled as she finished with the sugar and grabbed a creamer off of the table. It was interesting watching her do everyday things for the first time. Things like making coffee, for instance.

She stirred the coffee, then took another hesitant sip. The corner of her mouth curled up in a slight smile. "It's sweeter."

"Do you like it?" Logan asked.

"No." she replied.

This time, he couldn't hold back a laugh.

Ororo took another sip of her drink.

"Why are you still drinking it if you don't like it?" Logan asked.

"I heard coffee wakes people up." she said. "I thought it might help."

She lifted the mug up, tipping it's contents into her mouth and taking a big swallow, then another.

Logan reached out, putting a hand on hers and slowly lowering the mug. "Easy there, girl. Drink much more of that and you'll be bouncing down the halls, not walking 'em."

Ororo blushed. "Sorry."

_Wow_ Logan thought. _ I don't think I've ever seen her blush. _

Scuffling sounded just outside the door, and both turned to look.

The door flew open, revealing four of the youngest teachers.

Rogue, Bobby, Kitty, and Peter walked in, already in the middle of a conversation.

Kitty plopped down next to Ororo then turned to stare up at Rogue. "Come on. You need to get out more." She pouted.

Rogue glared at Kitty. "I do not."

Kitty raised an eyebrow. "You've been in you're room all morning. I'm surprised you haven't grown roots."

Rogue opened her mouth to shoot something back, probably not something very pleasant, but Bobby grabbed her arm. "How about we get some eggs going, huh?" he said overly enthusiatically, quickly steering her away from Kitty.

He shot the petite girl a warning look.

Kitty shrugged, then stood up, walking over to a cabinet and pulling out a box of Poptarts.

Peter chuckled. "Is that _all_ you eat?"

She stuck her tongue out at him.

Peter laughed and walked over to the coffee machine, pouring himself a cup, before pouring a second.

The first he left untouched, but the second he filled with so much sugar it had to have filled half the mug.

He headed back over to the table, plopping the second one in front of Kitty.

She grinned. "Thanks, Pete."

He shrugged, a smile twitching on his lips.

"Hey, watch it!" Rogue cried, and Ororo turned to see Rogue smack Bobby on the arm.

Bobby laughed. "I wasn't really going to do it."

Ororo bit her lip. For some reason, all of this commotion was really getting to her this morning.

She stood up, dropping her cup in the sink, then heading to the door.

"Where are you going?" Logan asked

She turned to look at him, anxiety displayed in her eyes. "I...there's just some stuff I need to take care of."

Before he could even attempt to answer, she stepped out of the room, shutting the door softly behind her and heading down the hallway.

She passed the office, intending to head outside to her greenhouse.

But just like every other time, the office lured her in.

The door creaked as she opened it. She kicked her shoes off, glancing around the room.

The metal filing cabinet caught her eye, and she groaned as she thought about the bundle of papers waiting to be graded.

She gave in, walking over and pulling open the drawer. She took the papers out and headed over to her desk.

Plopping into her chair, she took out a red pen and started to correct.


End file.
